The Hat
by iflip4dolphins
Summary: 50 quotes. 50 moments. One elderly, genius Hat.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** For the last time, I don't own anything!

**A/N:** For the 50 quotes challenge. Chapters likely to be up slow-ish, meaning I have no idea when they'll be up. Please read, please enjoy, and please review.

**Quote 1.** You look like a banana.

* * *

If you've ever been sent to Dumbledore's office, you've probably had the chance to look around. You've probably seen Fawkes perched on his stand, perhaps preening himself or regrowing molted feathers. You've also probably seen portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses. I bet they ignored you, too, because you ignored them. I think you've also seen the books, thousands and thousands of books that line the walls like a multi-colored blanket. And I know that you saw the sword of Godric Gryffindor in its glass case on Dumbledore's desk.

I bet you also stuck your hand in the ever-present bowl of Licorice Snaps and got bitten.

The one thing that most students miss, yes, even you, is the tattered old hat that sits on one of the top shelves next to a stack of books that need rebinding. It's old and patchy, and doesn't look very special. That's why most people tend to skip over it, instead looking at all of the shinier, prettier objects on display. This hat, however, is the most special thing in the room. And you've seen it. You saw it on your very first day. It determined the rest of your life, or at least the basics, when you placed it on your head.

That's right. The Sorting Hat, that's what it is.

And, right now, it's talking with Professor Dumbledore.

"You look like a banana," it states, in response to Dumbledore's choice of attire.

Dumbledore is wearing robes that are bright yellow. Remember Bill and Fleur's wedding? Yeah, remember the yellow robes Luna and Xenophilius were wearing? These robes are just a tad darker than those. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on what Dumbledore was aiming for, it makes the rather odd Headmaster look like a big, bearded banana.

"Posh," Dumbledore replies.

The Sorting Hat glares at the Headmaster. "You do. You look like a big, bearded, overripe banana."

Dumbledore walks over to a mirror (I still have no idea where that came from) and surveys himself. "Hmm. It appears I do," he turns away. "Perhaps you could put something about bananas in your next Sorting song," he suggests.

If hats can look disgusted, this one certainly does. "I prefer to retain what little dignity I have," it retorts.

"You are no fun whatsoever," Dumbledore informs the hat. I, personally, find this exchange very interesting. Dumbledore is arguing with the Sorting Hat about bananas. Now, I'm not saying that I didn't argue with the Sorting Hat in my day, because I did, but never over something as silly as bananas. Though I do remember arguing with it over what the meaning of life is, but that's a different story. The point is, I am highly enjoying myself, and you, dear student, are completely confused.

"I'm not supposed to be fun," the Sorting Hat reminds Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore simply shrugs. The Sorting Hat closes two folds that look remarkably like eyes, a sign that the discussion is over. After a few moments, Dumbledore sits down at his desk and begins to fill out something. I suspect it is paperwork.

You want to know more? Persistant, aren't you? I have nothing more to say. If you wish to find out more about the Sorting Hat, I suggest you read. Maybe ask it some questions yourself, should you get sent to the Headmaster's office. Now scat, before I get angry.

Why are you still here? Go!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Nada.

**A/N:** Hope you enjoy reading this one. I enjoyed writing it.

**Quote 7.** Are you _drunk_?!

* * *

_Salazar,_

_I've sent this owl with a nearly exact copy of this letter (only the name has been changed) to the others. Come to the Hall tonight. There is something that we must discuss._

_Rowena_

The Slytherin founder frowned at the parchment, the words written in neat, no-nonsense script. They were in sapphire ink, a trademark of the Ravenclaw founder. His green robes, lined with silver, moved across the floor as he got out a quill. It was magnificent, and wasteful, a large eagle feather quill. Sitting down at his desk, Salazar unstopped his jar of emerald ink, dipped his quill into the liquid and set it down on the parchment. In his elegant script, he wrote:

_I shall be there._

With that, he rolled up the parchment and tied a ribbon of leather around it. Beckoning to the barn owl that had brought him the letter (it had respectfully waited back for Salazar to write a response), he held up the paper. The owl flew over, and was still as he tied his response to its leg. As he withdrew his hand, ornamented with silver rings, the owl took off to deliver the note to its mistress.

Rowena had already received the responses from her other companions. As she looked them over, the owl soared into the room, alighting on a perch made of ebony. Rowena looked up at the ruffle of feathers, and set the letters down, making her way over to the owl. The owl's name was Firid, and it was an excellent messenger. Raising a hand to take the letter off of Firid's extended leg, her blue robes cuffed with bronze cloth. Taking the scroll, she waved the owl off. Firid took off, presumably towards the newly built Owlery, where already several owls roosted. Rowena unrolled the scroll, read the response, then set the letter down on the desk and pulled a book from her overflowing bookshelf with long fingers, then sat down to read, knowing she had time before the meeting.

"Are you drunk?" Salazar wanted to know. He had come to the Great Hall for the meeting, and Rowena had proposed an absolutely idiotic idea. "This will never work."

"It is the only way. Eventually, we will die, and something else will be needed to continue the work of Sorting," Rowena cast a sharp glance in the green-robed offender.

"So you propose that we animate a hat?" Salazar sounded thoroughly disgusted.

"Actually, it isn't a half bad idea," Godric commented. His own robes reflected that of his House, Gryffindor, red with golden trimmings. "I say we give it a try."

"Yes," Helga chimed in, dressed in yellow robes cuffed with black. "It can't hurt, anyway."

"You are all mad."

Godric shot a glare at Salazar, a pointy black hat with a wide brim sitting on the stool in front of them, just conjured from Rowena's wand. "You're the mad one."

"You dare suggest -"

"Boys!" Helga reprimanded. "Fight later, enchant now."

A glare was exchanged, and the four turned their wands to the new, black, and pointedly lifeless hat on the stool. The hazy shimmer of spell after spell encased the four as they worked on the hat, puffs of multi-colored smoke drifted across the enchanted ceiling that showed a full moon. The hat was unaffected in color, shape, and size. By the time they had finished enchanting the hat, it was dawn, the ceiling showing a rosy pink just beginning to taint the navy black of the night sky.

Three rips appeared on the hat. It opened the one on the brim and spoke.

"So, I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat?" it asked. "Hmmm."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nope.

**A/N:** Long delay, I know. I have no excuse.

**Quote 17.** "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

* * *

"Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny gulped as she shuffled towards the stand. The sorting hat sat there, unassuming, tattered and worn, but Ginny knew that it would determine her future, possible for the rest of her life. Good thing Harry wasn't there. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to go up and be Sorted. When she reached the stool, Ginny picked up the hat, sat down, and jammed it on her head.

_'Another Weasley?'_ The hat's voice sounded in her head._ 'How many of you are there!?'_

_'I'm sorry, do we know each other?'_ Ginny replied coolly, ignoring the last bit.

_'No,'_ the hat replied. _'I don't think so.'_

_'Ah.'_

_'I know your brothers though. And now, I know you.'_

Ginny did not know what to say to this statement. She finally settled on,_ 'Aren't you supposed to be Sorting me?'_

Its response was unexpected. _'Are you frightened?'_

_'A little,'_ Ginny admitted.

'_Brave indeed. Admitting to fear isn't usual…'_ the hat sounded thoughtful. _'Courageous, though not devoid of wit. Loyal, cunning. Hm. Difficult indeed. None of your siblings were this complex.'_

_'Is that an insult, or a complement?'_

_'Depends on what you want it to be.'_

_'Then thank you.'_

_'And thank you, my dear. I now know where you belong.'_

Ginny tensed as the hat opened its brim and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Relieved, Ginny pulled off the hat and slid off the stool. Before she set it down, the only Weasley daughter whispered, "Thanks, hat." And with that, Ginny Weasley flounced off to the Gryffindor table where she sat next to Hermione.

'_Interesting girl,'_ the hat mused as the next student was called up. _'Almost as interesting as her brother. I'll have to keep an eye on those two.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** If I were rich...

**A/N:** This one's pretty short. I love writing interactions between the hat and Dumbledore.

**Quote 43.** "When God gives you lemons -- find a new God!"

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat at his desk, musing something. The exact nature of his thoughts were unknown, though many of the portraits privately thought and expected that the current Headmaster was pondering something marvelous, such as the exact equation of magical thought to ghostly activity, or what lingered under the cloak of a Dementor. The Sorting Hat, sitting on its perch atop several old books and dustless, thanks to a nifty permanent cleaning spell implemented by a past Headmaster, who had noticed the buildup of dust and - well, other items of disgust - and had fixed the problem, did not care. It was taking a nap.

"What is the muggle phrase for looking on the bright side?" Dumbledore suddenly asked. The portraits looked at each other, startled, then shrugged, their hopes dashed to pieces. They should have known better than to expect something normal from Dumbledore. After all, with a name like, well, any of his names (with the exception of Brian), one could hardly expect normal thoughts.

"Why do you care?" piped the high, reedy voice of Phineas Nigellus, former Slytherin Headmaster.

"One must have an understanding of all sorts of people, Phineas," Dumbledore replied simple. Phineas snorted. "I believe it is, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade'," he continued, ignoring the portraits.

The hat opened one eye. "Lemons?" it wanted to know.

"Yes."

It closed its eye and said dryly, "I prefer, 'When God gives you lemons - find a new God."

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore gave this some thought as the Sorting Hat drifted back off to sleep.


End file.
